


Rule The World

by SkantySkylar (SkarySkylar)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor & Ice Cream Shop, And His Hot Model Girlfriend, Body Dysphoria Mentioned, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Oral Sex, Surgery Scars Mentioned, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, dragon boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkarySkylar/pseuds/SkantySkylar
Summary: The one in which Kiku watches Yamato through the window till he finally gets the hint and takes her home.
Relationships: O-Kiku/Yamato (One Piece)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Rule The World

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be shameless, horny Yamato smut but then I got in my feelings so please accept this soft, artsy love letter instead.
> 
> Content Warning: Surgery scars are mentioned! It's only top surgery scars for Yama but Kiku has both top and bottom so if the mentions of scarring/allusions to body dysphoria squick you out, this may not be the one for you.

She watches him through the window. The flex of muscle beneath his skin, how his arms move in the light as he jabs one of his friends. His tattoo- the dragon in dark, red ink-ripples against the tan skin. She can almost envision it in action, slim and agile, unassuming till it opens its maw wide and fire rushes out of its throat, consuming everything in its wake. 

(She can feel herself begin to burn, deep in her core. It threatens to swallow her whole.)

But for now the dragon sleeps, resting its head on a slim shoulder as the rest of it wraps around a lean bicep.

He’s quite the looker isn’t he? A _rebel’s rebel_ , with his ripped up blue jeans and white tank cut just loose enough to show off a bit of side-ab if he turned the right way.

Catching her gaze, Yamato Meiji gives her a wink that sends sparks up her spine. Then, as if nothing happened at all, he turns to go back inside, white hair bobbing atop his head in a messy bun. The last expression she sees is his mid-laughter, pearly sharp teeth on full display as he throws back his head with the force of it. 

(She wants those teeth latched onto the crook of her neck as he thrusts his fingers into her-.)

_“Kiku!”_

She doesn’t realize the ice cream is melting in her hands till it’s too late. Stuttering an apology to the bewildered customer, she goes to change gloves and get a _fresh_ medium cone of chocolate cookie dough. Her brother’s eyes are on her all the while but she knows better than to look at him directly. Izo’s the type that can figure everything out from a simple glance. Kiku doesn’t want to risk it.

But it seems her cards had been revealed long ago. When the customers finally clear out, Izo pointedly makes his way over to the windows. The heel of his boots click the whole way, a death knell as she watches his skinny little denim-clad legs saunter up to her only distraction, then stretch as he reaches up to close the blinds with a clatter. 

“Focus,” Her brother says. His expression is cool- _especially with how he microbladed his brows into an eternal expression of arched superiority_ -but anyone that knows him can see the concern behind the seriousness. Kiku can’t help but cower beneath the command in his voice. 

(It doesn’t matter that she’s two feet taller. There’s a certain respect that can’t be shaken off, no matter how big she gets.)

The mid-afternoon rush of the local kendo club kids come in, their parents following at a more leisurely pace behind them. Kiku works with the diligence required to get through all their orders, then those of the local baseball team, and then the local blackhole Luffy after that. By the time the man with the strawhat saunters out-one arm wrapped around Dr. Trafalgar and the other firmly gripping a towering monstrosity on a waffle cone-Kiku is ready to crumple up her stupid little boat hat and run out of _Ringo Ice_ , family business be damned. 

So the next tinkling of the bells by the doorway initiates her flight-or-fight response. Biting back a groan, she takes a moment to stuff her face in her hands, hoping Izo would take the hint and step in.

She has no such luck. 

But there must be _someone_ looking out for her, cause the voice that speaks out is all too familiar in its mellow timbre, amusement dripping from each word.

“One medium raspberry cheesecake in a cup please. No sprinkles and **_extra_** cheesecake chunks.”

She looks up to find the same shit-eating grin that follows her into her daydreams. 

(The burn in her core lowers to a simmer, more subtle now that he’s actually here. She can see the beginning of summer freckles on his nose, how it scrunches as his grin widens now that he’s caught her attention.)

“You can’t wait till close? I could bring home a quart.”

“Well I was hoping I could steal you before close,” Yamato says. He leans up against the counter with _that_ arm. The dragon seems to rouse from its slumber. She stiffens as golden eyes look her over, filled to the brim with mischief as he calls out, “You don’t mind do you _I-zo_?”

He sings her brother’s name like a song, drawing out each syllable in a teasing lilt that’s sure to piss him off as he bats his long eyelashes. When she looks over to plead silently, his lips are turned into a little scowl, painted a red as dark as Yamato’s tattoo. She can see the _‘no_ ’ beginning to form on the pursed curve and clears her throat before it sounds out.

Narrowed blue eyes glance at her. Then to Yamato. Then back to her.

He sighs, and she knows she’s won.

“Thatch and I are planning on going on a trip to visit his parents next month. Make it up to me then.”

The words hardly register past the sound of her whoop as she throws her hat in the air and runs into the back to change. She makes it out in record time, work apron still slung over her shoulder as she slips out from behind the counter into Yamato’s waiting embrace. His arm curls around her with the ease of an action done a million times; the dragon against his shoulder presses a kiss to her own lanky arm as it’s owner slips a brown paper bag-the ice cream no doubt-off the counter.

Then they’re on their way, running out of the frost of the ice cream shop to the wondrous heat of summer’s golden hour. She turns to face the sun, letting the warmth wash over her skin, giggling when Yamato gives a playful nip to her wrist, swinging their joint hands between them like children do.

Then she notices the direction they’re heading in and her good mood falls to the wayside.

Of course he parked the Corvette across the street. Right in front of BEAST INK. Where he works. With his asshole friends. 

Kiku tries to hide behind him but it’s hard when she’s a good foot taller.

He notices her discomfort immediately.

“I talked to them. They won’t bother you.”

“Queen said I should _do something useful with my height_ and try to play basketball in the U.S. Page thinks I’m a gold-digger. Jack won’t stop asking me ‘ _How’s the weather up there?’_ and Ulti’s just,” She scrunches her nose, dropping her tone to an uncomfortable murmur. “ _Ulti’s a bit of a B-I-T-C-H._ ”

“A bitch?” He laughs as she swats his arm. Yamato barely manages to dodge a well-aimed punch before he comes up behind her, reaching up to grab her shoulders as he whispers in her ear, “They’re just _jealous_ that I’ve got the hot model girlfriend and all they’ve got are their right hands-.”

“Don’t be crude!”

He only laughs again, low enough to make her skin tingle, before giving her shoulders another squeeze. She waits for the crosswalk but he just jaywalks his way to the car, hopping over the door to settle in the driver’s seat. By the time she primly settles into the passenger’s side, he’s got his sunglasses on- obnoxious red things shaped like fire emojis- and is cranking up the radio to some loud rock.

She clicks in her seatbelt. 

He smirks at her.

(And it scares her: how much she likes it. A muddy mix of exasperation and fondness washes through her at such a simple expression. Is this what love is meant to feel like?)

With a wild whoop, he sets off down the road. Jack and the gang don’t even get a chance to snoop before BEAST INK is in their rearview mirror. Yamato speeds down the roads with all the confidence of someone with an influential father, laughing in the face of the cops as they sit by and grit their teeth.

Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was free like this. Running around causing mischief without a care in the world. She knows better. She sees the way his eyes soften when he looks out past the town limit, gaze lingering on the path to the highway for just a moment too long.

He yearns to leave this town.

(And a part of her wants to follow.)

The drive is over at soon as it starts. They pull into his driveway before she has a chance to get used to his speed. Hauling herself through the door on unsteady feet, she makes a comment on his road rage which he responds to with a mere laugh. His shoes are strewn by the door, replaced with his house slippers. He’s already somewhere in the kitchen, probably putting the ice cream away before it melts. She follows after the sound of rustling…

Only to find the area empty. Clean, no doubt. The marble is absolutely spotless, save for the empty paper bag. Which meant he’s _around_ but-.

**_“Boo!”_** She startles, heart leaping into her throat. As soon as she’s witten her wits to tell him off, Yamato’s pressing apologetic kisses against her back. Heat from his lips seeps through the thin fabric of her shirt; her subtle shudders only grow in intensity as he snakes his hands past the hem, brushing against the smooth surface of her stomach.

“We’ve got an hour and thirty-seven minutes before the new episode of _Gurren Lagann_ ,” He says, because that is _exactly_ what she wants to hear when being seduced. “You wanna... _hmm-hmm_?”

Kiku doesn’t need to turn around to see ‘the eyebrow wiggle/smolder combo’. It had been permanently engraved into the back of her eyelids long ago. Letting out a long sigh, Kiku shrugs off her shirt, fighting down the smile that threatens to break through her cool mask as Yamato gives a yip. She breaks when he tosses her over his shoulder, uncaring as her slippers fell off in his haste to run up the steps to the bedroom. 

Sandalwood and myrrh hang heavy in the air. An obvious sign of her influence in the candles that stand tall on either bedside table. 

(She saw _one_ in a department store and commented on it. How Yamato ended up with _twenty_ , she didn’t know. He always did go a little overboard when she made suggestions. Anything to make her happy she supposed.)

People that don’t know him would assume he’d be all force and fire in bed. 

She knows him better than she knows the back of her hand. So it doesn’t catch her by surprise when he sets her down gently, nuzzling the crook of her neck as his hands map out the expanse of creamy white skin they had already marked out so many times before. He tugs at her jeans and she lets him; the heat in her core refines into a lithe coil, thin as the lace of her lingerie but just as sturdy. 

Kiku squirms as amber eyes drink in the sight of her. She feels like a flower fully bloomed: a chrysanthemum in the early days of autumn, craving the heat of summer’s sun that churns in his gaze. 

Love, she recognizes, is that heat. It’s what makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. It gives his long, pale lashes pause as they go to blink, as if worried that she would flit away in the meager millisecond it took. 

It’s what makes her reach out to cradle his jaw and pull him down beside her. 

His hair spills over the sheets, a touch grayer than the white of the silk, with the stark red tips standing out. She runs her hand through it, tugging it just how he likes before laying her lips on his. Yamato groans, opening up to her at once, flickering his tongue against the back of her teeth as she throws a leg over him, straddling him between her thighs as she leans down to brush her chest against-,

“Ah! _Fuck_!”

“Yama? Did I hurt you?”

The man reddens. He’s not looking at her anymore. Instead of love, treachery shines in his eyes as he suddenly takes interest in the tree outside the window.

He’s keeping secrets. Unamused, Kiku picks up her hand...

And _smacks_ it down on his chest.

The resounding howl is more than enough to alert the neighbours. Is he injured? Has he started fighting again? Was he jumped?

She tries to rip off his shirt but he struggles against her, hands tight around her wrist like handcuffs. Yamato looks up at her pleadingly but Kiku gives him a look so wrathful he can’t do anything but cower under the force of it.

“It’s still a little sore,” He says to explain. She doesn’t have to ask what. He’s already tugging up the cloth to reveal his thin waist, the firm muscle of his abs, the faint top surgery scars-.

Wait.

Oh, he _didn’t._

“Is that...the Kozuki family symbol?”

“ _Yup.”_ He pops the ‘p’, suddenly self-satisfied as he looks down at the dark black and yellow phoenix-like insignia _tattooed_ onto his chest. The same insignia of his father’s #1 political rival. Which was _tattooed_ . On his _chest._

“Your Dad’s going to kill you.”

Yamato’s satisfaction turns gleeful. “I know!”

He looks back at her. Testing the waters no doubt. The same hands that smacked his chest moments before comes up to trace the lines of black, mapping them out as the silence stretches. A certain somberness creeps between them.

It’s not like she’s not aware of how he felt. She caught him sometimes, frowning at himself in the bathroom, covering straight dark lines with shaking palms and staring into the mirror.

(She used to wonder what he was seeing that she wasn’t.)

There’s no doubt. Kiku knows his body like the back of her hand, after all. She knows each seam and juncture, where to pull him apart and sew him back together, each ladder stitch in the folds of tawny skin. The scrapes from falls off skateboard and that one discolored pucker from a stupid teenage dare. 

But there’s no doubt that the two scars running across his chest are different from the rest. Heavier. She knows his body but his mind is a chamber with 4 walls and no door. She can see glimpses of it through a tiny looking glass but when he looks in the mirror, he’s beholden to it all.

She could never understand why he made the choice he did.

Kiku knows his scars. She has some of her own. They were signs that they had chosen to live as who they were rather what the rest of the world believed them to be. She found strength in hers. The bravery and mettle of a samurai facing down an army of thousands. A beautiful defiance. A symbol of truth.

But that couldn’t be the case for everyone.

For Yamato- for this brilliant man, the son of the _Dragon of Wano_ \- it was not so.

And that’s _fine._

So she takes her time in studying this new addition to his tattoo collection , memorizing each carefully placed detail with the gentle press of her lips against the ink. She follows his cues, kneading haltered stutters and moans with a flick of her tongue over his nipples, a gentle suckle against his collarbone, relishing the salt of his skin at the juncture of his neck as he reaches up to embrace her, hand already tugging at the hem of her panties. 

She helps. Tidily, she takes off all the white lace so she’s bare, scars and all against her skin, proud as a warrior as his gaze drops to the sight of it.

She feels her pulse thrum. 

He inhales, red tinting his cheeks before a low, heated mumble of, _“C’mere ‘ku.”_

The faint rasp sends shivers down her spine, reminding her that she’s _here_ with him bared open to her with all his bravado stripped away: a mighty dragon turned into a simple man that croons at the brush of her knuckles against his ribs, hips bucking into her as she pulls down the zipper of his jeans with her teeth.

Flame boxers are facing her. She glances up, taking a moment to silently enjoyed the wild look in his eyes and swell of his lips, before,

“...Did you get tattooed here too?” She asks, trying to cast the last of the seriousness out of their space. Yamato makes a face.

“No! Do you really think I’m letting Black Maria that close to my junk?"

“ _Black Maria_ did your tattoo?”

“Yeah, in exchange for a month’s worth bitch-boy duty. Ki, _Gurren Lagann_! We’re on a schedule.”

She loves him. She really does love this idiot of a man. 

(And how it _burns_ this love. Like a deluge of fire sent to swallow her whole.)

Kiku takes her time, splitting him open with sure fingers before flicking out her tongue to taste him. She licks a stripe up either lip, salt and something distinctly _Yamato_ stumbling over her taste buds as he flexes around her. 

She likes seeing him like this. Debauched. Wanton. Wanting. With a face flushed a rogue darker than the tips of his hair, hardly hidden behind the arm thrown over his eyes. Kiku goes for another long, slow lick before devouring every inch of skin with swollen lips and a searching tongue. Minutes that seem to stretch on for hours go by before Yamato gives a choked groan and comes, thighs wrapped tight on either side of her head.

He tugs her up after his wave of orgasm finally settles into a gentle ebb and flow, meeting her halfway in a sloppy kiss. Yamato’s arms are like pillars around her, strong and sturdy as they bring her down over his face. 

Her thighs, thick and pale, settle at either side of his wild grin. She hardly has a chance to tell him to go slow before he hooks his arms around her hips and _tugs_. 

His mouth is hot and insistent against her. The rough pad of his tongue does its initial sweep, then he begins to draw letters, little runes set out to ruin her. Her toes curl and fingers dig into her palms.

Yamato _hums_. The self-satisfied prick. Much too smug for her liking. 

So she braces herself and _rides_ his face, stealing her pleasure right back. His hands grip at the meat of her ass and she lets them, shutting her eyes as wave after wave of arousal hits her till she falls to the force of it, a keen whine at her lips.

(She burns, but it’s okay. There are rough hands grounding her, making sure she doesn’t go up in smoke.)

She rolls over to his side, loose and warm. The dragon wrapped around Yama’s bicep slumbers on his shoulder. She presses a kiss to its horns, relishing how she can feel the rumble of his laughter through the skin.

* * *

“Why Oden?” Kiku asks in the stillness of the aftermath. She has a cup of wine in her hand, soft bathrobe wrapped around her tight as she cuddles into his embrace. He doesn’t spare her a glance; Gurenn Lagann having stolen all his attention. On the television, they’re replaying Episode 1. Kamina is yelling at Simon in a tight pinch.

_“Don’t believe in yourself!”_ He says. _“Believe in me! Believe in the Kamina that believes in you!”_

He hums, chewing on his barbecue chips before answering,

“I never told you the whole story did I? I paid- or _Kaidou’s black card paid-_ for the surgery back when I was twenty ...twenty-four? But Oden was the one I stayed with during recovery.”

Eh?

“His wife makes some _bomb_ stew.” He says, not acknowledging her bewildered look. His explanation left her with more questions than before. (How do you end up staying at your Dad’s political rival’s house post-op? In what world did something like that happen?) But she can see the subtle shake in his hands and sidles in close instead.

“Those scars,” She starts before she misses the chance. He pauses. “Do you ever regret-?”

“ _Never._ Babe, are you that worried about the tattoo? It’s a tribute to a great man, you know. The fact that it makes my chest look nice is a perk.”

“Ok, ok.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, taking note of how his subtle shake stops as he relaxes into her touch.

“I love you,” she says, because she feels like it has to be known. “Scars, tattoos and all. I love _you.”_

He looks at her, finally, and she can see it again. The warm treacle-like amber of his own love simmering in his eyes, how his nose crinkles as he grins despite himself. His lips are on hers in seconds.

(The flames within her are a comforting hearth; the gentle crackle and warmth of _home.)_

_“This is the surface?”_ Kamina asks on screen. Before the brave protagonists, the world stretches far beyond what they can see, sparkling and beautiful and full of possibility.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just pretend Gurren Lagann still airs live lmao...I went into this fic kind of indifferent to YamaKiku (the ship was rec'ed to me by someone more big brain energy than I) but now I'm ENLIGHTENED!!! I want to give them more content (maybe more some Canon divergence?) They deserve the world and i want to see them interact SO bad. Hope you all enjoy this little splatter of words on a page. Thanks for reading!!!


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